


Let Us the Infant Greet

by welcometocabeswater



Series: Moonage Series [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Babies, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy, blended families - Freeform, bluesy - Freeform, feel good nonsense, festive, holiday fic, moonage daydream verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-03 06:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welcometocabeswater/pseuds/welcometocabeswater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gang has made their triumphant return to Monmouth after university and have come home with so much to celebrate between them all. But most of all, it's their first Christmas together at Monmouth Manufacturing in years and Gansey wants to do it right.</p><p>A collection of drabbles over the years as the gangsey piece together a family of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There Upon the Fireplace

**Author's Note:**

> All respect goes to Maggie Stiefvater whose delightful characters I'm borrowing for Christmassy goodness.
> 
> Title goes to Loreena McKennitt for her song of the same name. :)
> 
> I'd read Chapter 5 of Moonage Daydream for a bit o' context if you're new to this fic series. :)

It’s their first Christmas at Monmouth together since they’ve all returned from their various scholarly escapades. Gansey’s eager to make it as special as possible, now that they’re all here, together once more. Not only that, but this year marks something else that cannot go unnoticed: their first Christmas as a _family_. Ronan lets out a snort and rolls his eyes from his position nearby, leaning his chair dangerously far back under his weight. They’re not technically a family _yet_ , he reminds them. He and Adam have only been engaged for a few months with not even a single wedding plan underway. And although to the untrained eye, Blue looks big enough to give birth tomorrow, Pesky Little Critter Gansey has another two months to cook before they can make their grand debut into the world. But as Gansey presses a reverent palm to Blue’s belly and feels his child’s firm answering kick, he knows they’re every bit as much present as the rest of them.

It’s been surprisingly smooth sailing thus far. Granted, Blue’s just about hit her limit to how much she can take before this pregnancy stops being a blessing and becomes more than a bit of a nuisance. But she’s done very well, throwing herself into preparations, not just for the baby, but for Monmouth’s renovations, and in particular, her pet project: the shop she intends to open downstairs. They’re a long way off from completing that particular project, sprog withstanding, yet Blue ticks on, with no sign of slowing down, even with their child’s arrival looming over them in six short weeks. She’s resilient, his Jane. Carrying on, barking orders and tromping across rooms to fix things herself, despite swollen feet and a sneaky little brat prodding at her bladder every five minutes.

Christmas, he insists, is a time for rest and relaxation and thus, she. Must. Sit. Down. “So help me, Jane, I will make you put your feet up if it’s the last thing I do!” he exclaims out of pure exasperation upon setting her down on their new couch in the middle of their half-finished living room, only to find her up and about the minute he turns his back.

“You can’t _make_ me, Gansey! I’m not your- _oh_ …” she trails off, spelled silent by the careful press of his fingers digging into her left foot. He beams up at her, knowing full well not to say _I told you so_ , but hopes his smug grin will say enough.

“Now,” he begins, pleased that he finally has her where he wants her. “There’s something I want to show you. And before you say a word, yes, it _absolutely_ cannot wait until Christmas Day.”

“Carry on what you’re doing and I’ll consider,” Blue agrees, kicking her bare foot more firmly into his hand. Gansey suspects this is exactly what it feels like from within and he must admit, he _is_ insanely jealous that she gets to experience all these intimate moments with their son. (And yes, he knows it’s a boy. Blue may have absolutely zero desire to apply a label to their child before they’re even born, but Gansey’s driven himself mad with wondering. If Noah conveniently let it slip after being reverse psychologied out of it, it’s hardly Gansey’s fault…) If he could carry Blue’s burden, if only for a minute or two, he’d count it a blessing. He’ll just have to settle for picking up the slack when it comes to four a.m. feedings and grueling tantrums in a few months’ time. He rather thinks he’s looking forward to it, really. Blue’s already done so much to give him this gift. The least he can do is take the stress off her shoulders when he finally arrives.

Fortunately enough, his gift to her tonight, under the glittering fairy lights, with the Christmas tree at his left elbow, is within reach. No halting of his foot rub services now! He leans far over, his top half disappearing beneath the low-hanging branches of the pine, before righting himself, a wrapped package in his hands. “For you,” he announces, handing over his prize.

Blue presses a hand to her chest in mock gratitude. “Well, you shouldn’t have.”

“You’re already giving me the greatest gift of all,” he gives his sappy reply, to another resounding eye roll from his better half. He nudges it into her hands. “Open it.”

“Okay…” She’s humouring him, he knows, but she doesn’t know what’s coming for her… Blue unties the gold ribbon delicately (to later add it to her accumulating crafts collection) before ripping into the wrapping with savage claws. Blue may have a keen poker face, but there’s no hiding her eagerness when it comes to gifts. Especially if it has anything to do with the baby. She lifts the lid of the cardboard box in her lap, pulling away puffs of tissue paper, and letting them fall, like whispy clouds to the floor at her feet. Gansey carries on his ministrations on her poor, thickened ankles, hiding his grin in preparation for the unveiling.

From the box she pulls a red stocking, sewn with white trim and gleaming beneath the Christmas lights with golden embroidery. A second joins it in a deep green. The pair of them settle astride her lap, a knee each. Her breath hitches as she recognizes the third stocking in the depths of the box. She fishes it out now, this diminutive thing, a royal blue with the matching golden lettering. She smooths it out, right in between the red and green: a perfect little family all on their own.

“Dick, Jane, and…”

“Spot,” Gansey confirms with a cheeky grin, one hand reaching up against the side of her burgeoning belly. That familiar press greets his palm and he never will get over it. “We can get serious ones done later, when Little Critter has a name. But I thought…”

“Oh, Gansey, I _love_ it.” Blue’s eyes gleam in that way they do lately when overcome with gratitude. She’s already welling up. “I’m putting them up right now.”

“ _Woah…_ Sit down, woman.” He coaxes her back down onto the couch. Of course she _would_ want to put the stockings up on the mantle herself. Right _now_. Their hearth is still an unfinished wreck- merely a hole in the wall where a grate should be. “We don’t even have a fireplace yet.” Nor can Blue get up from the sinking quagmire of the couch cushions without help anymore… And Gansey’s not about to indulge her busy-body nature. Not when it’s _Christmas_ and that is clearly a lot of baby for one tiny lady such as Blue Sargent, force of nature or no.

“Sit down, woman, nothing. We’re hanging these stockings. Immediately.” Blue swallows back her remaining tears and manages to manoever his hands from her shoulders into her grip. Reluctantly, he pulls her up with him, stockings firmly clutched between their shared grasp.

“Together?” he compromises, offering up Blue’s very own stocking, Jane emblazoned diagonally across the front.

“Together,” Blue agrees. Perhaps a little forward thinking, someone has already drilled protruding nails into the unfinished mantle: six dots of silver all lined in a row. Blue and Gansey’s hands hover over the centermost nails. With perfect synchronicity, they hold their own personal stockings aloft, hanging them on their individual pegs. The baby’s stocking they do together, each gripping a side. It hangs between them, diminutive and perfect. Their little family.


	2. Little Drummer Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue and Gansey squabble festively over baby names.

Some days, Gansey can’t stand how much he loves Blue. He didn’t think he’d ever receive- no, deserve- a forever amount of days with this sensibly nonsensical beauty of a woman. But here she is, offering a promise that he won’t be getting rid of her that easy. Not when they’ve created something together: their own little globe of a world, curled up safe and sound in its temporary sanctuary. In two short months, they’ll greet the human being they brought into existence, a far better gift than any magic Gansey could ever ask for. Blue _is_ magical. Their _son_ is magical. And no length of time could ever tamp out that feeling of pride and honour knowing that they chose _him_ to be lover and father. He’s titled now. More than king, more than politician’s son, or raven boy. He’s a fully minted Father. All he needs now is to meet his little boy.

He honestly doesn’t know how Blue does it. She’s so poised, dealing with the aches and pains of pregnancy as they come. She’s elegant in her frustrations, from her restlessness to her eccentric cravings, to her perpetual mood swings. She doesn’t let it consume her, and Gansey can only imagine he’d be so collected were he to walk in her chafing, too-tight shoes. He’s been caught in the midst of her crossfire one too many times in the past seven months, and time and time again, he’s reminded how much she’s sacrificing for him and their son. Do her feet hurt? Does she need a blanket? Another glass of water maybe? Prenatal vitamins? His deepest heart’s love? Anything. He’d give her anything. He’d drive halfway across town- hell, call Helen and fly as far out as he needs- to get her what she needs. Because she deserves the _world_.

Tonight, she wants for nothing. Monmouth is finally quiet after a rambunctious ambushing from Adam, Ronan, and Noah with festive treats and plenty of glitter. The boys had baked all day, over at The Barns, and Ronan is far too pleased with himself when he doesn’t successfully kill anyone on the spot with his shortbread cookies. The factory still smells warm, of baked confections and zesty spices.

Blue settles with her feet up on the couch, still working on a plateful of cookies she has, currently balanced on the hill of her belly. This is just about as fanciful as his pregnant better half could possibly get and he’s just bursting with how much he adores her.

Blue’s own mind is still fixated on Ronan’s parting words, not anything too profound, just the comfort that comes with the familiarity of friendships forged half a decade ago. He’s got one arm slunk around Adam’s shoulder, and they’re halfway out the door when he shifts a quarter turn to face her one last time. “Gansey…” He tips his chin at his best friend across the room, then turns his attention to Blue. With two fingers to his forehead and away, he salutes her, a fond smile traced across his knife-point lips. “Sargent…” He nods his respectful farewells before stepping out after Adam into the frosty night air.

She fiddles with the pom-pom on the end of the Santa hat perched jauntily over her brow. Noah had presented it to her earlier, opening the mouth of it wide to fit across her stomach. “I think I know what I want to call the baby,” she murmurs conversationally as Gansey looms over her, waiting to take the plate from her outstretched hand. Once relieved of the dish, she absently dusts herself off of remaining crumbs.

She’s thrown on an uncharacteristically festive outfit for one so uncomfortable in her usual clothes. Maura had made her a red maternity dress, trimmed to match the hat upon her head now and threaded with gold, silver, and green. There’s nothing unflattering about it. It’s all unadulterated Blue. If anything, Gansey looks forward to unraveling her from all that fine silken gift wrap later…

His heart skips a beat, as it does every time she mentions the prospect of giving a name to a yet unseen face. This is a heavy responsibility to give him. In fact, it feels more tremendous a decision than he has any right to accept. “You do, do you?” He lifts her feet, ginger, oh so ginger, so as not to disturb her ideal set up she has going on here, and settles at the opposite end of the couch. “Well, there’s no time to waste! Out with it, then!”

“Sargent,” Blue announces, as firm as if she’s already made up her mind. It's what she wants, more than anything, for her child. She likes the way her last name sounds on Ronan's tongue, a red carpet roll out just for her: one of the boys. She thinks she could get used to Ronan saying the very same farewell to his future godchild. 

Blue's got chills just thinking about it.

Gansey’s brow furrows. “Like for the last name?”

She lets out an indignant tut reserved for every single time he’s being utterly ridiculous. “No! As a _first_ name! It could work for either a boy _or_ a girl.”

“It could _not_ work for a girl!” Gansey bursts out with a laugh, rumbling deep down in his belly: a father’s laugh.

Blue’s eyes narrow and suddenly, she flicks from indignant to straight up offended within mere seconds. “ _My_ name is Sargent and _I’m_ a girl.”

Gansey sighs. “Yes, but that’s different. It’s not your _first_ name.”

“Oh, yes. Because my _first_ name is no less ridiculous.” Blue rolls her eyes, digging her toes into his thigh. “What would you call your daughter then? _Indigo_?”

Gansey, knowing full well he’ll have to hold out hope and wish on a few stars for a daughter, humours her, and pretends to consider. “I mean, I don’t _hate_ it…”

Blue throws a pillow at him. “We’re not naming our daughter Indigo.”

Gansey beams sweetly back at her. “Well then, we’re not naming our _son_ Sargent.”

“And why _not_?” He’s somehow managed to wind her up without much thought, and here she is, his tiny, perfectly rotund dragon, smoke curling wisps through quivering nostrils. Gansey finds her shin in his hand, and rubs gentle along her leg in an attempt to pacify her.

He sighs. Here it comes. “Because I’m worried my parents will flip.”

“Screw your parents!” she exclaims, pushing up against her elbows. Still indignant then. “If they can’t handle us not getting married before this baby’s born, I don’t think they have a right to hold their first born _grandchild’s_ name hostage either.”

Gansey bites his lip, his mind whirring with an idea he _knows_ Blue is going to hate. “I still think we shouldn’t take Richard Campbell Gansey IV off the table.”

“Oh really.” Blue’s not even surprised enough to add an inflection to her sardonic question. “And what do you propose for a girl then?”

“Jane,” he responds without missing a single beat.

“ _No_.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“But _Jane_ …” he’s addressing her now, at a teasing whine. Blue’s toes wiggle in his lap as she squirms to reach for him. But she’s too far away with the baby weighing her down. Gansey will have to thank his son later for keeping his mother from pummeling him for being a class A shit.

“Sargent,” Blue insists. “Sargent or nothing.”

“What if…” Gansey starts off, a compromise forming as goes. “…we put Richard Campbell Gansey IV-“ (he steadfastly ignores her latest punch of _no!_ ) _“-_ on the birth certificate, but call him Sargent instead?”

Blue eyes him in that skeptical way that she does when she’s not quite certain he’s just given the game away, and the secret of their child’s gender with it. She lays a hand on her belly, her palm wandering in search for activity. She’s going to let their child decide their own fate, just as her mother did with her. Gansey’s hand reaches out to knot fingers, curled with hers. And right on cue, there it is. A great, firm kick beneath both their palms.

Blue’s breath hitches at the momentous occasion settling upon them. If she had any psychic bone in her body, this would be her sign, sending a sparkling hint at the child within. This feels right. “Deal.”

Gansey’s heart lifts, impossibly light. He’s grinning. Won’t stop grinning. Grinning so wide, his cheeks hurt. “Yeah?”

Blue relaxes back against the arm of the couch with a sigh, head thrown back in peaceful contentment. “Yeah.”


End file.
